


==>Dayvee: Be Weirded Out

by Quilly



Series: Married with Grubs [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Gen, Phase Two, and rose and kanaya are the best and most supportive moms, in which dayvee strider wishes his sorta-moirail had a different hobby, incredibly self-indulgent babyfic, no really, of the Married with Grubs event, part of the Sherlockbound/Fun with Dirk and Jane universe, send help, they are fine with almost everything, wednesday is at the end of her rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dayvee Strider and if Wednesday tangles your wig in another attempt to get a reaction out of her moms you're gonna poke her in the eye.</p>
<p>(Part of the Married with Grubs event for the Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane series. Phase Two: Childhood, 5/5)</p>
            </blockquote>





	==>Dayvee: Be Weirded Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all! This is an event going on at the Sherlockbound askblog (asksherlockbound.tumblr.com, check the sidebar for the Married with Grubs button) and I'm moving the drabbles over to here for other people to access, so voila! This is the final of five in Phase Two: Childhood of that event! If you're curious about what Sherlockbound/Life with Dirk and Jane is, check my page for the series Life with Dirk and Jane!
> 
> Enjoy!

Your name is Dayvee Strider and this is a scene you’ve looked on many times.

 

Wednesday Maryam-Lalonde has been something like your best bro since after you pupated, and you’ve seen her rock many, many looks since she hit what she calls her “rebellious phase”. It hasn’t exactly worked out for her, because her moms are _very_ supportive, of _everything_. But you’ve never quite seen her like this.

She borrowed one of your cosplay wigs a while ago and has it pulled on now, a medium-length brown wig that looks very strange in place of her regular pink fauxhawk, and she’s wearing an actual headband (mostly to cover up the holes where your horns usually poke through but whatever). Her shirt has no rips and her skirt goes to her knees. It’s weirding you out, man.

“I’m telling you, Dayvee, this time I’m getting grounded for sure,” Wednesday grins, and you stop to consider how your life got to the point where she actually _tries_ to get grounded and you’re helping. Normal kids, they hide stuff from each other’s parents. They sneak out to parties and experiment with dangerous drugs. Not you. You are sitting in Wednesday’s room with comb and wig spray at the ready in case she tangles it, thinking to yourself that you’ve tried a bunch of stuff to get a reaction out of Aunt Rose and Aunt Kanaya and you don’t think being a goody two-shoes is gonna cut it.

“Well? How do I look?” she asks, spinning away from her mirror. You look at her critically.

“I think you look very boring, Wednesday-chan,” you say, because she hates it when you go weeaboo on her but whatever, it’s your life. “How is this going to get you in trouble?”

“It’s in the psychology, moron,” she says. “I’ve been trying too hard the other way, get it? I’ve tried just about everything. Punk rock, emo, goth, scene—too _big_. Mother _thrives_ on big, and Mama’s seen bigger. So I gotta think _small_.”

“Oookay,” you say. “Don’t touch the wig too much, it’ll tangle.”

She adjusts her skirt and grabs her bag.

“Would you like some toast to shove in your mouth?” you ask, and laugh when she swats at you. “You’re late for school, Wednesday-chan!”

“Am not!” she retorts. “If I’m late, you’re late, Dayvee-baka!” As much as she hates it, she will indeed play along. That is probably the coolest thing about Wednesday—she is up for trying almost anything.

You sort of try to blend into the background when Wednesday comes down the stairs, because if Rose and Kanaya don’t disapprove she’s going to pitch another hissy fit.

“Morning, Mother,” Wednesday says in the most bland voice you’ve ever heard to Rose as she passes her in the kitchen. You watch Aunt Rose. It’s her reaction that will be critical in forming the rest of the morning. At the table, Aunt Kanaya sips her tea and also watches Rose. Kanaya certainly has her own opinions, but when dealing with Wednesday, she takes her cues from her wife.

“Good morning, Wednesday,” Rose says, and her voice is neutral. She hasn’t really noticed her yet, because she’s in the midst of making her coffee. “Are you ready for school?”

“Oh, yes,” Wednesday says. “I finished all of my homework and took time to double-check my answers. I even did a few extra problems and have questions prepared for my teacher. I hope math class lasts forever.”

This is a lie. She hates math. But you don’t doubt that she probably did do the extra work, just to prove her point. You sit down across from her little bro Rodrey, nod at him as he rolls his eyes, and help yourself to the stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. You’ve been around enough times to know what to do.

Rose looks at Wednesday now, and there is a familiar pull of amusement at her lips, which looks weird without her black lipstick. Wednesday scowls, then reins herself in, fixing her expression into something more bland as she butters toast.

“What do you think,” Rose says finally, “you are wearing outside of my house?”

There is a glimmer of hope in Wednesday’s eyes. You almost choke on your pancake. Kanaya slaps your back a few times.

“I raised you to be more expressive, young lady,” Rose says, and her voice builds in volume, “and you are spitting not only on my teachings, but on your mother’s line of work, as well.”

On cue, Kanaya stands, a green-stained handkerchief in her hands, and dabs fretfully at her dry eyes.

“Oh, Wednesday,” she sniffs, “how could you do this to me and your mother?”

“What do you mean, Mama? I am merely conforming to the standard of fashion as set by my peer group,” Wednesday drones. Kanaya heaves a little sigh and faints; Rose catches her and sweeps her into a low dip.

“Such drabness,” Kanaya laments. “Such underwhelming patterns!”

“Go to your room and change this instant,” Rose says, and turns to Kanaya. “It’s alright, darling, don’t worry. No daughter of mine will walk out of the house dressed like that.”

“Oh, Rose,” Kanaya whimpers, and, alright, you guess you should have expected the liplock at some point this morning. Wednesday’s parents are so _weird_. And this is coming from the kid whose mom licks his face constantly!

“But Mother,” Wednesday drones, “I’m just expressing the hive-mind of my generation.”

“To your room, young lady,” Rose repeats as she surfaces. “And you are grounded every night this week for causing your mother such distress.”

Wednesday doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course, Mother. As you wish.” As she walks out of the kitchen, her face breaks into a huge grin and she makes a “rock on” sign at you. You stand up to follow (because if she tangles up your wig you will kill her), and have just enough time to catch the end of the conversation between Rose and Kanaya, as follows:

“Do you think we were too harsh on her?”

“She has to learn to obey her parents and express herself in the properly riotous manner, or else no one will take her seriously in life. We’re doing the best we can.”

Then Rose winks at you, lowering her voice. “It should keep her occupied for a little while, at the very least. Do make sure she isn’t late for school, Dayvee.”

“Yes, ma’am, Aunt Rose,” you reply, returning the grin and going to help Wednesday quickly change into her usual fishnets and ragged tank top. This family is so strange.


End file.
